


Bent & Twisted

by LooNEY_DAC



Series: LooNEY_DAC's SSSS Crossovers [2]
Category: Avatar: Legend of Korra, Avatar: The Last Airbender, Stand Still Stay Silent
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-20
Updated: 2017-02-08
Packaged: 2018-09-01 04:31:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 14,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8607934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LooNEY_DAC/pseuds/LooNEY_DAC
Summary: A re-setting of SSSS in the world of A:tLA





	1. Genesis

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lazy8](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lazy8/gifts).



The Four Nations are no more.

Long ago, there were only four types of Bender, and each had their own nation, a harmony of four balanced and maintained by the Avatar.

Then, change. The Avatar was unseated, and war and conquest ruined the old Four Nations and begat a Fifth, wherein the Benders intermingled and intertwined inextricably. Therein sat the Avatar Resurgent, striking down those who wished to upset the balance, whatever their origin and whatever their nominal goals.

Inevitably, the old Nations fell to the new, as the Diatessaron proved irresistible. All types of Bending flourished.

Then, change. A new type of Bender appeared, among the non-Bending inhabitants of a small and isolated island that had been inconsequential for centuries.

The new Benders worked their will not on Earth, Air, Fire or Water, but upon Life Itself; and thus was the Great Tragedy prefigured in their midst.

Most Life-Benders were Plant-Benders, but a very, very few could Bend Flesh. Flesh-Benders were feared from the beginning, even amongst their own, for the horrors that their Bending inevitably wrought. Periodically, the Flesh-Benders were purged, sometimes by their own hands, but they always re-emerged. So it was that the Life-Benders were bound to their Island, lest a Flesh-Bender bring doom upon the world.

The quarantine failed.

Ninety years ago, the Avatar vanished, and the true Horror of the Flesh-Benders was revealed. A small boat landed on the shores of what had been the Earth Nation, bringing with it the Reaving, a plague that Bent those few victims it was not merciful enough to kill into monsters filled with an insatiable bloodlust.

Within a month, the Reaving had spread to every corner of the world--save only the Island of the Life-Benders, whose ostracism proved their salvation. Their land flourished, their Warders turning back even the most determined efforts by bearers of the Reaving to spread that horror to their land--and the Flesh-Benders were purged (again).

While the Reaving killed off most of the nations, some few in each land proved to be immune; the Reaving-Bent Horrors slew most of them in turn.

Within a year, Mankind had nearly been wiped away.

On the Reaving-ravaged lands, four pitiful remnant nations arose, fighting back the Horrors day by day, ever perched on the brink of oblivion. These were in no way the Four Nations of old; within each, the Watch of the Diatessaron was maintained, as it proved the only way to hold back the Horrors of the Reaving; and all of them were in the old Water Nation, far to the north.

Three of these nations huddled close to each other on one mass of land; the last was on an island closer to the old Earth Nation lands.

The Nation of Gnorrs was a seafaring brood, braving the waves to hunt the sea-borne Horrors.

The Finn’s-Land was mostly a lake-bound archipelago; there, a different manner of Diatessaron was practiced, as it had been since before the old Four Nations themselves were founded.

Between the Gnorrs and the Finn’s-Land were the Svensk, a proud and aloof bunch who had kept the Watch and Ways of the Diatessaron the most completely of the four. Despite this, though, they rejected the Avatar as being “mere myth”.

The one island nation, the Mark of Denn, had been peopled by refugees from the main lands, and these mounted mighty efforts to reclaim their lost homes, but to no avail, as they had no Benders amongst them at all.

Eventually, the Life-Benders awoke to the fact that the future of Man now rested with them, and the very few other survivors in the new nations. Tentatively, they extended their hand in friendship to the survivors, who accepted with more or less alacrity, according to their nature.

Now, ninety years after the Reaving struck, life has settled back into a familiar rhythm. The Flow of Life governs and rules the new nations, even as the Reaving still strives to disrupt it.

Those not of the Reaving who yet cannot or will not follow the Flow have a different fate: exile.


	2. Exodus

The loud Dennish Admiral eyed the five soon-to-be-exiles waiting at the Exodus Point and thought they were a motley group, to be sure.

Emil ex-Västerström was a Svensk fire-bender whose tendency to involuntarily ignite anything around him was considered an embarrassment at best and a danger at worst. He had tried to join the Watch of the Diatessaron, and they did _try_ to set him on the right path; in fact, he became very good at energy-bending in its various forms under their tutelage. But the twitch within him that kept igniting things around him proved beyond their control, so he had to be sent away.

Sigrun ex-Eide, a Gnorr and a friend of a friend of the Admiral, had said too loud and too often that the Gnorrs’ cowering in their settlements instead of charging out to fight the Horrors headlong would lead to their demise; her too-aggressive nature had led all of her superiors, her parents even included, to send her off to conquer or to die, though her parents obviously hoped for the former. Her earth-bending was of the ancient “FOR MASSIVE DESTRUCTION!!!!!!!!” style, as well.

Mikkel ex-Madsen, the only Dennish among the group, was two meters plus of utter enigma. While the others were almost eager to explain/complain about their Exile, Mikkel maintained a Sphinx-like silence on the matter.

More than she wanted her next breath, Tuuri ex-Hotakainen wanted to see the world beyond her walled hometown, and if Exile was the only way for that to happen, so be it. For this reason, she had been judged dangerously insane, as her compulsion to explore would certainly end in her contracting the Reaving and bringing it back to wipe the rest of them out. She was the only one of this group of Exiles who was not Immune to the Reaving, so the Admiral somewhat sadly knew he’d never see her again, even if some of the others managed to Return.

Lalli ex-Hotakainen, a water-bender of the ancient style who thus utterly eschewed the Diatessaron, had responded to the sentencing of his cousin Tuuri to Exile, and its rationale, with the simple condemnation, “You’re all idiots and fools”, which was enough that he was made to accompany Tuuri.

There were a few others around, both to bid the new Exiles farewell and to ensure that they actually left: the Admiral’s old Gnorr friend Trond; a cousin to the ex-Hotakainens, Taru Hollola; and Emil’s Aunt Siv and Uncle Torbjörn. The Admiral himself was standing as Mikkel’s witness.

They were an unusually large group to go into Exile; usually Exiles set off singly or in pairs at the most. The fact that they were five not only improved their chances (hey, “nonexistent” to “barely any” was still an improvement) for a successful Return, but also allowed their witnesses to pool their funds for a better Final Gift for the group; in this case, they had been able to afford an actual _vehicle_ , dingy and run-down though it was. With it, the Admiral estimated their chances had risen all the way to “with a _loooooot_ of luck”.

Exile was for a year and a day; then or after, theoretically, the Exiled could Return without penalty, and even with feasting. To the best of the Admiral’s knowledge, a Return had happened precisely three times in the sixteen years of weekly Exilings with which he’d been involved. Should they try to re-enter the Safe Areas before the year and a day had passed, the Exiled were to be killed on sight. _That_ had happened more often than the Admiral cared to remember.

Somehow, Old Trond had wangled a couple of crates of food for the new Exiles, and once they were loaded, they piled into the vehicle and scurried off across the Old Bridge. A few times, Emil unconsciously ignited something and Lalli just as unconsciously put it out. Each time this happened, Emil first cringed as though expecting a reprimand and then shook himself when nothing happened. So the two boys seemed to be getting along well thus far. Now, if the mass of rusting metal that was the Old Bridge would just stay up for them...


	3. Leviticus

The lighthouse was on fire.

“I know we’re late, but we’re not _that_ late,” Ása Hardardóttir muttered to herself. The captain of the _Túnfiskurinn_ turned to her nearest lackey and asked, “Are the crates ready for delivery?”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“Good. I’ll be down momentarily.”

When she reached the forward gunnery station, the Master Harpooner told her, “I don’t like this.”

“And you think _I_ do?”

“I mean that something’s wrong out there. There’s a few people on the dock, but they’re not dressed right.”

Ása gave him a Look. “Just fire the harpoon gun so we can get this over with.” As he obeyed, she muttered to herself, “Every time we do this, I feel a bit of my soul die.”

The harpoons went out; the lines they bore were taken in; and the two crates were sent over.

“Give me the megaphone,” Ása said in sudden decision. Once she had it in hand, she bellowed through it, “TELL YOUR MASTERS THAT THIS IS THE _LAST TIME_ WE’RE MAKING THIS RUN! DO YOU HEAR? YOU’LL HAVE TO FIND SOMEONE ELSE TO DO YOUR FILTHY WORK FOR YOU!”

A voice faintly called something back to them, but it was indecipherable over the murmurs from the Believers among the crew.

“SILENCE!” Ása had worked herself up into a fury now. “Any of you who want to keep making this run can find another boat on which to do it! Helmsman, get us away from this stinking place!”

*  
 _TWO DAYS EARLIER…_  
*

The bridge _had_ collapsed behind them, but Sigrun’s rudimentary metal-bending skills had kept their portion of it up _just_ long enough for their vehicle to slip into the relative safety of the tunnel. _Relative_ safety: the tunnel was cleared every week so as to make it impracticable for Exiles to shelter there for any length of time.

They had spent that first night on a grassy field outside the tunnel mouth, but Sigrun told her new companions-in-arms, “The secret to survival out here is to keep moving on. You linger, you die.” They believed her.

Their second night was spent in an old fortlet, miraculously clear of Horrors. There, they’d found a note telling Exiles that a Sanctuary existed not far away, in a lighthouse on the ancient docks.

“Death-trap,” Sigrun opined immediately, but Tuuri prevailed upon her to let them at least investigate.

Now the lighthouse was on fire and all its former inhabitants were dead.

Apparently, the world-destroying plague had wrecked a few minds without even trying, or so Mikkel and Emil thought, as neither believed in the spirits. Be that as it may, in the aftermath of the Island of Life-Benders’ reopening of its borders to the few survivors of the Reaving, a cult had sprung up around the notion--supposedly a direct revelation from one of the spirits--that the Reaving needed to be appeased in order to keep the Island safe.

The appeasement chosen was a series of sacrifices offered annually on the altar atop the old lighthouse, culminating in a human sacrifice.

Sometimes, Exiles would come to the Appeasers, and would either join or be sacrificed. Mostly, they were sacrificed.

It should be noted that neither Sigrun nor Emil spoke the language of the Island of Life-Benders, and Lalli only spoke the tongue of the Land of Finn, but when the weird bald people started trying to spear them, they reacted accordingly.

So the lighthouse was on fire and all its former inhabitants were dead.

Shortly thereafter, a small ship appeared off the dock, fired off a couple of harpoon-lines, and dropped two crates in the Exiles’ laps. A heavily distorted stream of angry-sounding gibberish echoed from the boat, to which Sigrun replied, “Thank you!”

While Sigrun and Mikkel attacked one crate, Emil struggled with the other, Lalli glowering ominously. Once he noticed, Emil asked, “What?” Everything today had by far exceeded his personal Weirdness Quotient, and he was still twitchy.

When, immediately thereafter, the crate popped open, the lid propelled from within by a tall and lanky boy with a most impressive braid, Emil immediately slammed the crate shut again in an automatic reaction.

After a few moments of confusion, Mikkel came over to the new arrival. Mikkel (and Tuuri) spoke the language of the Island of Life-Benders, and was able to open a brief dialogue. No, this was _not_ the Mark of Denn. Yes, Mikkel was sure of that.

In the meantime, Sigrun had completely flipped out over the idea of yet another non-combatant mouth to feed; Emil was ordered to “guard the prisoner”; Tuuri was impressed by the newcomer’s hair; and Lalli was glowering at the newcomer ominously.

Thus did Reynir Árnason begin his own involuntary Exile...


	4. Numbers

_One was the cat-tank, roving cross the land_  
_Two were the non-immunes in the little band_  
_Three were warriors brave and bold_  
_Four were the Nations in times of old_

_Five were their origins_  
_Six were their number_  
_So many souls within_  
_That crept up in their slumber_

_Ready to devour these intruders now  
Ready to devour these intruders now_

It was, of course, Reynir the Life-Bender who saw the Death-Shades coming first.

He had just turned to try to gently chide Emil (as much as you could chide someone whose language you don’t know) for lighting the tip of Reynir’s braid afire (though Lalli had immediately extinguished it, and there were times when Reynir himself would have gladly burned the whole thing off) when his attention was caught by something moving in the ever-deepening shadows.

The team of Exiles had had many close calls and even some injuries since Reynir had joined them, mostly through fighting off Reaving-Bent Horrors while trying to find more provender or in transit between campsites; but even so, they had been very lucky so far.

Reynir privately thought that most of their good fortune was due to the Spirits’ guidance, as invoked by Onni, the Air-Bending brother of Tuuri who’d communed with Reynir and Lalli in a dream when Reynir first joined the team.

In any case, all of them were predisposed to notice anything moving in their camp’s vicinity, so Reynir turned to give the stray motion his full attention. It was at this point that fear briefly paralyzed him; even his heart seemed to stop at the sight before him.

The approaching figures were tall, slender and utterly black--but they were also figures Reynir recognized from a dream he’d had just the night before. He’d been afraid then, but had tried to greet the shades politely enough.

In return, they’d sucked the life from him until he shattered like a porcelain figurine. This kind of thing tended to stick in one’s memory.

Tuuri had noticed his paralysis by now, and was trying to talk to him. With a supreme effort of will, Reynir made his frozen lips move. “We need to go... _now_!”

Tuuri didn’t believe him, of course, though he tried ever harder as the Death-Shades slowly advanced. It took Lalli’s scream as they struck him and the collapse of Sigrun and Mikkel for her to realize, “WE’RE ALL GONNA DIE!!!” (which was what Reynir had been trying to tell her all this time) and get their vehicle moving.

While Lalli screamed and pulled Emil by the hair into the relative safety of the light, Reynir turned to face the Death-Shades that were in their midst and attacking his friends. “G-go away!”

They turned their attention to him. “Please go away!”

Reynir could feel the life ebbing from his friends, and he instinctively started to Life-Bend, shoring up their vitality with his own, but it wasn’t enough. As the Death-Shades, sensing triumph at hand, pressed their attack home, Reynir cried out in desperation, “I need help! HELP!”

Just as Reynir was about to fall, everything seemed to pause.

_“Air is the Element of Spirit; thus, to Air-Benders shall Spirits fall.”_ The ‘speaker’ was a vast and magnificent owl, crackling with power and both menacing and reassuring simultaneously in Reynir’s dazzled eyes.

The apparition hovered over the smothering sable bulk of the specter and told it, _**“You have no place here.**_

_“Were you sired in Evil’s homeland  
Or by words of corrupt person?_

_“Still by my word you shall collapse_  
_Bend now to my will dark being_  
_Out from this place go ye cruel one_  
_Flee a-running evil creature!”_

Power surged from the avian, rocking the vehicle and knocking the Death-Shade out from it, leaving it free of the ebony menace.

Reynir watched the owl fly away, in awe at its majesty.

Unobserved by any of its putative victims, the shreds of the Death-Shade slowly came to a stop and reformed. When its fellows joined it, they began the Stalking anew...


	5. Deuteronomy

_**THE FIRST RULE**  
for survival outside the safe areas_

_If you come across  
a Beast, a Troll or a Giant  
do not run or call for help  
but_ **stand still and stay silent.**  
 _It might go away._

The poster was old, ragged and weathered, but still legible. Apart from that, it looked like any number of posters just like it that Sigrun had seen since her childhood.

But it had been over six weeks-- _forty-five_ full interminable _days_ of fighting and hiding and fighting again--since their Exile, and the relative abundance of forage showed they were almost certainly farther from the Safe Areas than any had been for _decades_ , so whence had this poster come?

The “safe haven” of the lighthouse had been an obvious trap, but there were no such claims on this poster, and certainly no specific location mentioned.

Was this just another trap, albeit a far more subtle trap than any they’d chanced upon so far? Or was this a sign that others had passed this way before--and survived?

*

Sometimes, Benders (of whatever sort) start believing themselves invulnerable. The more powerful the Bender, the more likely this is to happen.

The Reaving likes showing those who think themselves invulnerable just how wrong they are.

Sigrun had found this out on more than one occasion, both directly and by observation. However, Emil, her right-hand warrior and burning battle buddy, would probably never learn this particular lesson except by observation, if Sigrun was right in how she’d sized him up.

While Emil was a very, VERY powerful Fire-Bender, his power incontinence frightened him, which led to more awkwardness, stress, and uncontrolled outbursts. Sigrun had seen not a few cases like his back in her hometown, though Emil’s was about the worst, and most maltreated. Those Svensk who’d tried to take him in hand must have just been idiots; simply being in company with her and Lalli for these forty-five days had already brought Emil’s outbursts down substantially. He’d almost stopped flinching like he expected to be hit each time he involuntarily lit something ablaze, too.

On the other hand, there was Lalli. Tuuri had been helping him (and Reynir) to learn some basic Svensk so that he could talk to the others without having to have her around, and as Sigrun watched and listened to him, she thought she could see the kind of pride in him that would invariably lead to the Reaving making him fall. Sigrun knew that she’d have to keep an eye out to try to minimize the damage when it happened.

Sigrun wasn’t quite aware that Lalli had already had his fall.

*

Lalli knew the Death-Shades were still tracking their little group, but he was still at a loss as to how to protect the others. Even the Braided Fool had been of more use in that regard than Lalli had at their first encounter, and only Onni’s intervention had kept all of them from dying.

Onni, being an Air-Bender rather than a Water-Bender, had naturally been unable to provide Lalli with any means or methods to combat the Death-Shades, but he had given Lalli a piece of advice that Lalli had taken to heart: “Seek out the Spirits of the old Mark of Denn. If any can aid you in combating the Death-Shades, they can.” But where to start?

Sigrun’s unsettling find marked the first hint Lalli had had of where they should look. If they went in the direction hinted at by where the sign was posted, and found other signs hinting the same, they might maybe possibly find where the Original Spirits of the old Mark had hidden themselves away. Then, Lalli would humbly come before them, prostrate himself, and beg their aid and tutelage. Only thus could he keep the others safe, and it might well cost him his life.

*

Sigrun had had to speak very carefully to avoid crushing Emil when she’d assigned him guard duty at the camp, but it was unavoidable. Mikkel claimed he could read a secret message in an old Dennish code hidden on the sign she’d found, so he had to come along, and Lalli was needed to suss out anything sinister lying in wait along their path, so Emil had to stay behind and watch over the “helpless babies”.

The three of them hadn’t been gone for more than ten minutes when the first of the Giant Horrors passed by the camp...


	6. The Revelation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Emil is not the Avatar, OK? There's Something Else going on.

Lalli bleakly looked at the knowledge that the three of them, himself, Mikkel and Sigrun, were all about to die, and it was all his fault.

_“Come in, weary travelers,” the man had said, ushering them in from the pounding rain outside. The fact that he was unnaturally pale had gone unremarked as he helped them remove their sopping jackets, but Lalli had sensed the Evil on him even then, choosing to ignore it until they were warm and dry..._

Lalli had indeed ignored all the signs that said this was a trap, solely concerned with his selfish quest to find the Spirits, and so his companions were going to die. Even should some miracle deliver them, Lall doubted he would ever forgive himself.

Mikkel and Sigrun were lying unconscious on the floor, their chi blocked so that, even were she awake, Sigrun couldn’t have helped fight the Evil One opposing them.

“Give me your Bending!” the aforementioned Evil One demanded, sending bolts of obscene energy from his fingers into Lalli. “I, the mighty Sonew, demand it!”

Sonew was trying to become a Dark Avatar, but instead of being born with the ability to Bend each Element--in fact, he had been born unable to Bend at all--he was to _steal_ each form of Bending from a hapless Bender who had wandered into his power. He had already stolen Air- and Fire-Bending before Lalli had delivered an Earth-Bender and a Water-Bender into his clutches.

The Island of Life-Benders had no Benders of Earth, Water, Air or Fire, but their Sages had found ways to ward against those Benders through runes charged via prayers to the Spirits. While Reynir was still very novice at such things, he had given everyone on the team a rune to ward them against the Death-Shades. Only Lalli was still carrying this rune (as part of his plans to plead with any Spirits he could locate) and when this Sonew had first tried to rend Lalli’s Water-Bending away from him, the rune had blocked the attack.

“Do you imagine a mere slip of paper is all that it takes to overcome me?” Sonew had thundered, but the rune had obviously given him pause. With a gesture, Sonew had charred the paper to ash, but he had waited until another gesture had blown that ash to pieces before resuming his assault on Lalli.

Now Lalli could feel his Bending being ripped away from him, as Sonew Bent and blocked Lalli’s chi. In another minute, Lalli would be as helpless as Mikkel and Sigrun, and then Sonew would have no further need of any of them.

In an instant, the rather dimly burning torches flared into blinding teal splendor, while lines of aquamarine fire ignited on the floor to form a giant Fire-Bending sigil around... Emil.

Wait, how had Emil arrived there? Lalli’s heart rose and fell almost simultaneously. Had his folly now brought doom to his friend, as well? And would the other two be next?

“You are a Fire-Bender, I see.” Sonew was calm now, assured in his new mastery of the Four Elements.

Emil made no reply.

“I have no need of a Fire-Bender,” Sonew sneered. Then he made a dismissive gesture, and turned back to Lalli. A burst of yellow-orange flame followed his motion toward Emil.

Emil’s eyes glowed with an icy blue fire that was all their own. An instant later, the wave of fire heading at him turned blue and began rolling back toward Sonew, who nearly missed it until it was too late.

As an ever-more-desperate Sonew grappled with the flames he could no longer Bend to his will, Emil pointed to Mikkel, Sigrun, and then Lalli. Lalli could _feel_ his chi straining against Sonew’s blocks for just an instant before the blocks gave way, and he could move again.

Now Emil returned his attention to the straining Sonew, who was fighting to keep the flames back. Emil raised his hand out toward the other man--and then clenched it into a fist.

The flames surrounding Sonew flared almost white as they consumed him; then they vanished, leaving a statue of ash for just a moment before a huge gust of wind burst into the center of the room, sucking away every trace of the would-be Dark Avatar.

Emil’s eyes rolled up until only the whites showed, and he fainted...


	7. The First Apocrypha

“I’m _not_ a helpless baby,” Reynir pouted. Emil couldn’t understand one word of that sentence, but Reynir’s tone was indicative, as were Tuuri’s look of embarrassment and initial reluctance to translate.

“You also aren’t immune to the Reaving,” Emil pointed out once Tuuri had finally passed on Reynir’s complaint. “Were a Horror to happen by, you might kill it a dozen times over and still fall victim to the scourge it carries.” Then he belatedly added, “And we need to keep our voices down, or we’ll draw them right to us.”

“The Death-Shades are still tracking us,” Reynir pointed out. “They’ll bring the Horrors to us whether we remain silent or not, if I’m not mistaken.”

“Staying silent isn’t just the First Rule, though: it makes sense regardless.” Emil huffed out a frustrated breath. “Look, you can stay out here for now, but if we see a Horror, I want you back inside the vehicle before it gets within the 20 meter circle. OK?”

Once Tuuri translated this to Reynir, the tall redhead gave such a vigorous nod that his braid almost did Tuuri an injury.

“You’re not afraid,” Tuuri told Emil, in a confident statement of fact.

Emil was about to contradict her when he realized that, in fact, he wasn’t. “No.”

“Good.” Tuuri smiled at Emil calmly. Then her eyes grew wide at the sight of something behind Emil. It hadn’t even been ten minutes since the others had left, but Emil knew what he’d see if he turned.

Turn Emil did, and he saw about what he’d expected: Giant-sized Horrors making their way straight to the camp. “Tuuri, get in and get ready to drive out of here.” Emil looked at Reynir, ready to tell him something similar, but the other boy’s face had hardened into a frown of concentration, and so Emil knew Reynir was Bending.

A meter-thick hedge sprang up around the camp, shooting up impossibly fast, and when the Giant Horrors tried to bludgeon their way through by main force, vines shot out of nowhere to snare them, wrapping and tangling themselves around the Reaving-Bent flesh until the Horrors could scarcely move--for now.

“Get inside, Reynir,” Emil ordered, using one of the phrases Tuuri had drilled into him while never taking his eyes off of the nearest Horror, but Reynir was too transfixed by his first good look at a Giant Horror to obey. When that Horror began to shear away the first few vines entangling it, Emil repeated his command, shouting now, and Reynir went.

Emil glared at the Horrors as they thrashed in search of freedom from their vine bonds, unknowing that his eyes were glowing blue. His entire being focused on the one word that he growled out-- _“Burn.”_

And there was _fire_.

*

Within the vehicle, Reynir and Tuuri sat and nervously listened to the sounds of fire and burning Horrors.

Tuuri felt a tap on her shoulder, and when she turned, she saw Mikkel, but a horribly translucent Mikkel, standing in the doorway to the driving compartment.

The image spoke in Mikkel’s voice, except with an urgency Tuuri had seldom heard from Mikkel in the flesh. “We need you to come and save us, Tuuri. We’ve run into something worse than we’d ever imagined.”

Somehow, Tuuri never thought to doubt the message. She _knew_ that this was, indeed, a message from Mikkel, however he had managed to send it. She started the engines and called for Emil.

When the blond Fire-Bender stuck his head into the driving compartment, Tuuri told him, “I need you to clear us a way out of here. We’re going to get the others.”

Emil was almost stupid enough to argue, but the steely light of determination in Tuuri’s normally soft eyes convinced him. With a wave, he parted the ring of fire around them, and their roving home rolled forward.

*

The vehicle stopped at the end of a long driveway. At the other end, Emil could see what appeared to be a run-down old hovel, but Emil sensed that it was more that it seemed. He could feel Energy being Bent within it, so he knew that this was where he needed to go. Admonishing Reynir and Tuuri to seal themselves into the vehicle until his return, Emil left.

Emil could feel the fear creeping back over him the further he went from the vehicle, but once he stepped through the open doorway, he heard the mad cries of the foe menacing his friends, and the sound set his blood to boiling anew.

“Give me your Bending! I, the mighty Sonew, demand it!”

Rage overtook Emil once more as he went towards the howls...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did someone ask for more Bending in this tale of Benders?
> 
> There are four types of Bending in this chapter, all of which will be seen again.
> 
> There will be more coming soon.


	8. Ecclesiastes

They had had to carry Emil back out to the vehicle, or rather Mikkel had had to; the boy was as limp as a rag doll, and utterly unresponsive to their attempts to rouse him.

Lalli took it as his personal charge to watch Emil sleep off the effects of his over-exertion; the others let him, unwilling to challenge him in his self-appointed task, especially after Tuuri explained how Lalli knew some rudimentary healing techniques common to Water-Benders of the old style.

Of course Reynir wanted to help, but Lalli told him through Tuuri that the best way the Life-Bender could help was to continue Dream-Talking with Onni. Shortly thereafter, Tuuri left to start the vehicle on its ponderous way to their next campsite, leaving Reynir with nothing to do but to take Lalli’s suggestion.

*

Reynir looked up at Onni expectantly, a trusting smile on his open face.

For his part, Onni looked at Reynir in perplexity, a frown wrinkling his features. “Do you know nothing of the Elements and how the world is set in order around them?”

Reynir’s face went through a series of contortions that Onni could only assume were meant to indicate that the tall redhead was attempting to think. At length, the young man from the Island of Life-Benders confessed, “Well, you see, they don’t really teach stuff like that outside of the Academy, and I was never very good in school, so... No, I guess?”

Onni shut his eyes and sighed deeply. “Then attend _closely_ to my words now, for this is the basis on which all Bending is founded. Firstly, the Elements:

“EARTH is the Element of Being. Without it, nothing is material or tangible. Things composed solely of Earth are classified in the Mineral Kingdom.

“WATER is the Element of Growth. Without it, nothing can live. Things composed solely of Earth and Water are classified in the Vegetable Kingdom. This is why water-benders are healers.

“AIR is the Element of Spirit. Without it, nothing breathes. Things composed solely of Earth, Water and Air are classified in the Animal Kingdom. This is how I was able to banish the Death-Shades.

“FIRE is the Element of Mind. Without it, thought is impossible. The only thing composed of all four Elements is Man.”

Reynir was gaping in astonishment by the end. Onni sighed again.

“Did you actually hear any of that?”

Still struck dumb, Reynir merely nodded.

Onni smirked. “Perhaps you could repeat it for me, then.”

To the Air-Bender’s astonishment, Reynir repeated the lecture word for word. Then he added, “Since Lalli is a Water-Bender, does that mean that he and I are alike in some way?”

Onni stared at Reynir long enough for the redhead to begin to feel foolish for asking the question. Finally, Onni quietly replied, “I don’t know--yet. Perhaps, as we know each other better, I may find out. But now we shall move to the next step in your instruction.

“Benders have what might loosely be called a _feel_ for their particular element as it exists in the world around them; and even as they Bend it, it likewise Bends them, albeit more subtly. An Earth-Bender should be slow to Bend, but when they Bend, let it be as an earthquake. A Water-Bender should Bend only in reaction to their opponent, letting them expend their efforts fruitlessly before rippling back in attack. A Fire-Bender should be swift and shifty as a forest fire, ever ready to take a presented opportunity. An Air-Bender must move as the wind takes them, never settling and never resting. So Bender of Life, when you _feel_ the Life around you, ready to be Bent, what qualities or attributes are there, and how do they Bend you?”

This went on for quite some time, until Reynir finally got his nerve up enough to ask Onni about the weird sense that he’d had from Tuuri when she’d spoken to Emil just before the battle.

“Tuuri has tried for years to convince herself that she is _not_ special, as Lalli or I are, and the she certainly _cannot_ Bend in any way. Bend she does, however, whether she wishes to admit it or not; the time is at hand when she will no longer be capable of denying it.”

*

When Reynir woke, Emil was still asleep, Lalli keeping vigil over the slumbering Svensk as the vehicle lumbered on...


	9. Lamentations and Psalms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning for mentions of past physical abuse.

A tiny flame bloomed on one upturned corner of the First Rule poster that had almost been the death of them, but before the flame could do more than discolor the paper, it was snuffed out, leaving only a wisp of smoke behind.

“Emil’s awake,” Sigrun told Mikkel.

“You don’t say,” Mikkel replied dryly, half-a-dozen wisps of smoke rising from his hair. “Fortunately, so is Lalli. Perhaps Emil will be more cooperative for him.”

Sigrun frowned. “I get the feeling you remind Golden Boy too much of a mean teacher of his or something. Once we Return, I swear I’m gonna go find those incompetent Svensk and...”

Mikkel waited until she’d run out of steam before observing, “You’re oddly choleric for an Earth-Bender.”

“And Emil’s a melancholic, which can be dangerous for a Fire-Bender, but he’s been coming along nicely ’til he scared himself just now.” Sigrun grinned. “Besides, that’s why we get along so well together. We’re both Earth and Fire.”

*

Lalli was deeply unhappy at having to confer with Onni while Reynir was in the dream with them, but it couldn’t be helped: he needed to try to hash out just what exactly the encounter with Sonew had portended.

Sonew was not a “natural” Bender; by his own admission, he had made a deal with something or someone from the spirit world to gain his powers. That this bargain even existed worried Lalli; the thought that it might not be the only such bargain was frankly _terrifying_.

Then there were the Death-Shades. Sonew had admitted to knowing about them and their pursuit of Lalli’s group, and had rather implied that he had been an agent in setting the Death-Shades after them.

All these questions and more were burning in Lalli’s mind, demanding answers that Onni alone of Lalli’s ken might be able to answer; such was the force that drove Lalli to seek Onni’s counsel in their dream, regardless of whether or not the redheaded Life-Bender was present.

*

Emil was trying desperately to keep from igniting everything around him, as he and Sigrun were out here alone under the stars. The fire within him snarled and chafed at its confinement, but he kept beating it back.

They were out on a hunting trip, where the least little slip-up on Emil’s part might result not simply in injury to one or both of them but also the whole party’s going hungry until they could catch something else. The strain of this only amplified Emil’s absolute horror over what he’d done to Sonew, making it that much harder to keep the fire banked.

They were most fortunate that night: a non-Reaving-Bent bear wandered into their trap. Of course, this embarrassment of riches meant hours’ worth of work in hauling it back to camp, so Sigrun got to work gutting their kill with a will, calling for Emil to help her.

“Roll up your sleeves and let’s get to it,” she ordered him.

Emil swallowed hard. Roll up his sleeves? It was bad enough that they all knew he had shamed himself sufficiently to result in his Exile, but this would be so much worse...

His deliberations were cut off when an impatient Sigrun reached over and yanked one of his sleeves up to the elbow, exposing a myriad of tiny scars in row upon orderly row. Aghast, Sigrun drew her arm back, grasping for words which seemed to have fled her mind. “Emil...”

The blonde Svensk ducked his head in shame. His voice was flat and dead as he told her, “You kept insisting my ‘little blazes’ would stop--I didn’t want you to see how wrong you were, but now you can.” He pointed to a very faded one near his wrist. “This was my first punishment for setting something alight--my mom’s hair. Usually, it only takes one or two of these to teach a Fire-Bender not to lose control; lack of control can kill or maim so easily that the lesson must be burned into you. But I never could learn it.”

Sigrun’s retort was pithily encapsulated in a single word that expressed her feelings towards the Svensk and their teaching methods. Then she added for good measure, “Then why did your little ‘incidents’ drop to one or two a day over the last month?”

Emil shrugged. Still with that dead, hopeless tone in his voice, he said, “You’ve all been so nice to me, and I haven’t deserved it in the least...”

The moon rose to the sight of Sigrun holding a sobbing Emil.

*

The Death-Shades surrounded the camp, but no one stirred save Tuuri. Though she tried to rouse the others, they lay where they were, as though already drained by the hungry hordes that steadily approached them.

There was nowhere to run, and no one else who could fight. Tuuri was on her own.

Just before the lead ghost would have entered the vehicle, it happened. The last of Tuuri’s restraint snapped. She _could not_ let this happen.

Her eyes shining blue, Tuuri announced, “ _Leave now. **There is only terror for you here.**_ ”

“ _Halt and heed me, Fiendish Phantoms  
Hollow husks of horrid hunger  
Unto us now come unwelcome  
Sink into my spell, you spirits!_

“ _Can you feel the fear awaken?  
Long-held lust yet lose its luster?  
Now at last has passed your longing  
Hounded down by mounting terror!_

“ _Feed? No, flee, indeed, you evils!  
Nevermore henceforth to hound us!_”

Before the last syllable had finished echoing into the night, the Death-Shades had flown, mashing into each other in their haste to escape the sudden terror that had overtaken them. Out of the world of flesh they fled and back to their own realm of spirits, pausing only briefly to let their go-between know that their deal with him was _off_ , now and forever.

“We knew you could do it.” Tuuri turned in surprise at the voice...


	10. The Second Apocrypha

In the inky blackness of one long-forgotten corner of the Spirit Realm, a Presence lurked, mulling over the recent disasters in the Mortal Realm.

So, Sonew had fallen and the Death-Shades had failed her.

Of the two, the first was the greater blow to her plans, as Sonew had been by far her most capable, energetic and motivated servant in the Mortal Realm; losing the Death-Shades was a minor inconvenience at worst. Still, even minor inconveniences hurt when you had just lost your strong right hand.

Ages had passed as she had woven her designs and waited, slowly and subtly pushing the Harmony of Four out of Balance, waiting for the right time to unleash Catastrophe.

She mostly worked her will through agents spiritual and mortal alike, spreading her plan through the Realms like a spider spinning its web and waiting; always, she waited, until the Avatar Fell.

Now, she was ready to reap the fruits of her patient prodding; but there was still more prodding to be done, both in the Spirit Realm and in the Mortal Realm. So she continued her work.

Even her more ineffective agents had been of assistance with this; while the Cult of the Appeasers had mostly fed her ego, they had also kept a close eye upon the only real source of danger to her plan: the Exiles.

When she’d first set her plan in motion, one of the Timeless had told her that the Avatar Reborn would be her doom, and that he would arise by the hands of a group of Exiles; so it was that she set her every agent to ensure that no Exile could approach the Lake of Awakening.

Until now, they had succeeded quite well.

But how was she to replace Sonew? The Appeasers still abiding on the Island of Life-Benders though hers body, soul and mind had none that could even approach him in ability.

She would have to go recruiting.

*

The Death-Shades had fled, but Lalli still kept watch, knowing the Horrors were still out there.

Sigrun and Emil were also out there, but Lalli was sure he needn’t worry over what was keeping them. After all, Sigrun was--well, _Sigrun_ , and Emil had proved himself quite capable of protecting his own at need.

Of course, even the best and strongest Bender could be taken by surprise--but with the two of them out there, that was only a very remote possibility. It was scarcely worth considering, even.

Emil had been almost as badly unsettled as when they’d first met, though; and Sigrun would naturally want to use the one-on-one time to try to pull him out of it, because she was a good leader, and that’s what good leaders do. So neither of them would really be as alert as was desirable, but still, the chances of something taking one or both of them by surprise was minimal--almost laughable even.

No, sometime soon Sigrun and Emil would be back, bearing their latest kills, which Mikkel would whip into something more or less (usually less) edible for them all. It would only be a few more minutes until Lalli spotted them coming back.

Lalli kept his eyes on the place where his friends had passed into the trees, letting his other senses play over the rest of the clearing. They would warn him of any danger that might approach; sometimes more faithfully so than his eyes.

Lalli kept his watch as the night waned on...

*

“We knew you could do it.”

Mikkel and Reynir stared back at Tuuri; Mikkel impassively, Reynir with an expression of awe.

“D-d-d-do what?” Tuuri asked in a blatant lie, trying her best to essay a look of innocent confusion. She was still trembling in the aftermath of her recent exertion, though, and so could not command herself as she usually did.

Mikkel answered, “Bend the Spirits, changing their Lust to feed upon us into Fear.”

“Like you Bent the Fear out of Emil earlier,” Reynir added happily.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Tuuri protested vainly. “I-I-I don’t Bend! Anyway, nobody Bends _Fear_.”

Mikkel frowned, but Reynir put a hand on the bigger man’s arm and said, “Onni said she wouldn’t want to admit it yet.”

Tuuri swallowed nervously. Onni _knew_? She’d tried so hard to keep this terrible secret from him, but he knew anyway?

“She can’t go on lying to herself, though,” Mikkel said calmly.

“I fear the blame for that lies with me...”


	11. The First Book of Chronicles

The great mass of the Air Temple noiselessly hovered above the vehicle sheltering the Exiles. Lalli knew it was there and who rode within its halls, but it was not relevant to his primary concern at the moment, which was Sigrun and Emil, who _still_ weren’t back.

...Oh. There they were just now, dragging a bear as best as they could. Emil’s eyes looked suspiciously red, but that could just be from the strain of the dragging.

Lalli rolled his eyes at his own Onni-esque excuse-making. No, Emil had been crying; but unless Emil wanted to tell Lalli about it, Lalli wouldn’t press him to.

Suddenly, a fierce gust of wind caught the carcass, lifting it from the bearers’ grasp and setting it down almost daintily by the vehicle’s door. “I hope you will excuse the presumption,” a voice called out in the Gnorr tongue from the Temple.

“Uncle Trond!” Sigrun exclaimed in surprise. “What are you doing here?”

The elderly Gnorr Air-Bender slowly floated down to meet the two as they scrambled back to the vehicle. “‘Hither have the winds of Fate borne me; hence shall they send me, I know not when.’”

Sigrun guffawed. “Oh, yes, Uncle Trond: your comings and goings are just as random and unpredictable as the Lady Moon’s phases.”

“I can see you’re just as unlearned in Air Nomad culture as ever,” Trond replied. “Despite the ignorant editorializing, it is good to see you again, Sigrun.”

Onni had descended alongside Trond. With a sharp signal to Lalli, the younger Air-Bender went into the vehicle, and Lalli followed.

“Come with me, Sigrun. You as well, Emil Ex-Västerström; we have much to discuss, whether you can understand it or not.” Trond lifted them up to the floating mass that loomed over them.

They went down a confusing series of hallways to a fairly small chamber which held at the far wall a Portal.

“Wait, what’s _this_ , Uncle Trond?” Sigrun asked in alarm.

“It is one of the few remaining Portals to the Spirit World that can be accessed without risking the Silent Lands,” Trond replied calmly. “It moves with this Temple, but stays stationary in the Spirit World. My parents helped your grandparents to fashion it, and other and greater things, like...”

“The Girdle of Dalsnes,” Sigrun finished for him. “The greatest feat of Earth-Bending _ever_.”

“It could not have been made without the others,” Trond told her pointedly. “It is their tale that I have brought you here to hear.

“They were known ever after as the Dalsnes Four; so are they known even to this day...”

*  
 _NINETY YEARS EARLIER..._  
*

The blast of wind lifted the grossling and smashed it hard against one of the fjord’s high walls. Just for good measure, the wind-wave repeated the smashing two or three times more.

“I’m not sure you killed it enough, Gøran,” Aksel Eide joked to his team-mate, Gøran Andersen, but both Fire- and Air-Bender alike gasped in horror when the thing slowly picked itself up again.

Rain began to lash the thing as Gøran blew it back into the sky, the precipitate precipitation courtesy Ingrid Petersen, the Water-Bender on their team. Aksel set his jaw and called forth the lightning over and over again, until the thing had been practically incinerated.

A troll had closed in on Aksel from behind without his noticing it, but just as it was about to strike, a pinnacle of rock impaled it, the sharp tip just protruding from the top of its skull.

Sigrun Larsen, Earth-Bender, was not about to let Aksel get killed on her watch.

“They just keep _coming_ without end,” Aksel remarked. “If we can’t find a way to block them, eventually they _will_ get through.”

“I’ve been meditating on the idea,” Sigrun said, “and a Spirit came by and gave me the answer, but it’ll take all four of us to do it.”

Aksel made a face. “Can the newbies handle this long enough for us to get it done, Gøran?”

The Air-Bender made a face. “They’ll have to at _some_ point, if we ever want to sleep again,” he pointed out. “Why not now?”

“We need to get to Wan’s Peak,” Sigrun told the others once that had been sorted. “I know you don’t like being used as a taxi, Gøran, but time is of the essence now.”

So they went, Sigrun pointing out the cave they would need to enter. There, deep within the mountain towering over Dalsnes, Sigrun formed the Girdle, a giant Ring that would keep Dalsnes safe for all time to come; but she could not bring it to life by herself.

Ingrid took Gøran’s hand in hers; Gøran took Sigrun’s hand; Sigrun raised her free palm to Aksel, and flames arose from it. “Take the Fire from my hand, Aksel,” she commanded.

Aksel took hold of the flame rising from Sigrun’s palm and felt his Bending return. In a blinding display, he poured Energy--the combined chi from four heterogenous Benders--into the waiting Girdle, until it burst into dazzling, coruscating radiance.

*

“Now,” Trond said at last, “I must seek out the knowledge that shall enable the next part of your Quest.”

Sigrun frowned. “We aren’t on any _Quest_ , Uncle Trond,” she protested.

“Why else would your team have come together as they have, were it not that the Quest has willed it so?” The old man smiled that little smile of his that said, ‘I know your deepest and darkest secrets, and I shall use that knowledge for my purposes’. “Your time shall come soon, Sigrun. Be ready for my return.” He turned to face the Portal, but paused. “Oh, and Emil: Onni should be bringing Lalli to join you shortly; it is vital that he do so, and that you are still here then.”

Trond passed through the portal and into the Spirit World...


	12. Acts

The Death-Shades clustered thick around the cavern that Trond sought, deep in the shifting twists of the Spirit World. He set them to an all too temporary flight before turning his attention to the granite mass.

“Aunt Sigrun!” Trond called. “Open your fastness for an old friend!” Then he muttered in an aside, “Well, _that_ could never be misinterpreted in several amusing ways, could it?”

“Who calls upon me in such familiar manner?” The voice was strong and vibrant. It was the voice of a strong, vibrant and fearless woman, a voice that Trond knew well despite not having heard it for well over twenty years.

“It is I, Trond, son of Gøran and Ingrid!” A pause. “You know, the best friends you had to whom you _weren’t_ married!”

With a rumble of stone upon stone, an opening appeared. “Well don’t just stand there, you jerk! Get a move on in!” Trond made haste to go through it, while a tenuous, barely visible membrane held back the Death-Shades.

Within was a place of rare beauty. The Elder Sigrun Eide had evidently spent her time in the Spirit World to create delicate crystalline figurine and other such bits, and in such numbers that Trond wondered if the door trick were truly the only bit of her legendary Earth-Bending that she had managed to retain upon her ascension to the Spirit World.

But when Trond finally gazed upon the Elder Sigrun, all these thoughts flew from his mind, and he was a teenager again, staring at the vision who had been his first crush so many years before. After a long moment, he managed to hobble over whither she awaited him.

The Elder Sigrun cupped Trond’s cheek fondly. “Little Trond, now grown old and proud.” She closed her eyes for a moment, recalling days long past.

“I have come on behalf of your namesake and heiress,” Trond said, remembering his purpose at last. “And yes, she is quite as foolhardy and insane as you ever were. The time is at hand for the Return of the Avatar, and for that, we must create a new Portal, so it’s time to get creaking back to the Mortal World.”

“I cannot return to the Mortal World with you,” Sigrun said calmly. “Nor can I possess even my great-granddaughter’s body: I am bound to this place, and the only way I may leave is by a second death.”

“But only you can create the Portal we need; none other has had that mastery of Earth-Bending, before or since,” Trond argued. “You _must_ return with me, and save the world once more.”

“Blah, blah, blah. Don’t get yourself all worked up about it, Trond; I whipped something up to get around our little problem long ago.” While Trond was speaking, the Elder Sigrun had turned to a pedestal upon which rested a glowing necklace whose equal Trond had never seen. She picked up this necklace and stared at the glowing stones in her hands. “Behold, the Shiny!” Then she grew serious. “I have poured all my knowledge and craft into these stones; once she wears them, my heiress will have all my skills at her command. So much of me is in them, though, that I shall not possess the strength to stave off the Death-Shades for long once you depart with them.”

This was decidedly enough to disturb even Trond’s vaunted equipoise. At his look of dismay, Sigrun smiled sadly.

“Sometimes, the great purpose of your life is to enable another to fulfill their own even greater purpose,” she said. “It is my ‘life’ to give, and I give it to the woman who bears my name.” With this, she thrust the jewels at Trond and flung the portal wide.

The Death-Shades immediately flooded the room, but a brilliant radiance pushed them back against the walls. Trond knew its source, so did not stop to look back but sprinted out, bearing the necklace.

He would not fly: he needed all his power to keep the Death-Shades at bay; and even then, it might not suffice.

_“NO!”_ The demented scream was only barely recognizable as female, and certainly it had not come from Sigrun. So powerful was it, though, that Trond checked for a moment in stunned horror, and that was when the lead Death-Shade caught up to him.

Trond fought vigorously, but the Death-Shade had latched on to Trond unshakably and was swiftly draining him. Just as Trond’s vision had started to blur around the edges, a quartet of shining figures fell upon the Death-Shade, breaking Trond free of its ghoulish grasp. For a moment, he blinked at the sight of the Dalsnes Four fighting their last hopeless battle as more Death-Shades piled in, but then Trond turned and fled for the portal with the necklace that would help to save the worlds.

Trond had been horribly weakened, and the portal was quite a distance. After a depressingly brief period, the Death-Shades reappeared at the edges of Trond’s failing perception, slowly drawing closer in anticipation of the kill.

Trond knew that nothing mattered now so much as speed. Without repining or hesitation, he began to run as hard as he could, feeling his chest tighten with every step.

At last, barely able to move now, Trond tottered out into the temple, the portal shattering behind him. “SIGRUN!” he bellowed with what little strength he had left...


	13. The Third Apocrypha

“I fear the blame for that lies with me.” The others turned to look at Onni Hotakainen when he made the bald statement. “I warned her too often about what had happened to the Life-Benders when they first announced themselves to the world, so when Tuuri found that she had the power to Bend emotions in both animals and people, she chose to hide it and deny even the possibility that Spirit-Bending could exist. But it does, and she is a true Spirit-Bender.”

Reynir was looking confused again. “But... I thought you got closer to the Spirit World when you moved past your passions?”

Onni smiled. “Not quite. You get closer to the Spirit World when you move past your _self_ , which usually means letting go of the passions tied to this self. You get closer to the Spirit World not via emotionlessness, but via _empathy_ and opening yourself to others, even at your own expense. Tuuri has tried to run the other way ever since she discovered her abilities, trying to appear as wrapped up in herself as possible, which has hindered her Bending.”

Reynir’s eyes crossed. Then he shut them, putting his fingers to his temples. “So... controlling Spirits and the emotions of others only works when you’re empathizing with them, and thus most likely _not_ to control them?” Tuuri smirked a little at his naïveté.

“Not ‘only works’,” Onni corrected. “Works _best_. Besides, there are limits on how far a Spirit-Bender can Bend, and any individual with good self-control can overcome the passions that are Bent. Consider a soldier: Bending their fear to the utmost will cause some or perhaps most to flee, but the most battle-tried will not, for they have mastered such fears before.”

“Then how did Tuuri prevail just now?”

“Spirits and animals are far more susceptible to her Bending, for they have no self-control; besides, for all their expertise at whipping up fear in others, those Death-Shades had never felt it for themselves before.” Onni locked eyes with Tuuri. “Also, Tuuri exerted herself far more than she ever had before, both Bending their Lust away and Bending Fear into them.”

“Are those all a Spirit-Bender can Bend?”

“No,” Tuuri answered in a small and quiet voice. It was the first time she’d spoken since Onni entered the bunk-room. “I can also Bend Anger and Anticipation; with Fear and Lust, those form the Wheel of Spirit-Bending.”

“Did you Bend the Tribunal’s apprehension that your Exile was certain?” Onni’s voice was stern.

“Yes,” Tuuri admitted, almost in a whisper. “And I did my best to Bend your fear away, so you wouldn’t worry about us. I didn’t think they’d Exile Lalli as well, but I couldn’t stop it.”

“It was as it was always going to be,” Onni replied calmly. “And speaking of Lalli, I must go and bring him to join Sigrun and Emil in the Temple.” He turned to Mikkel. “While I’m doing that, you can take the opportunity to explain _your_ Bending to them, before _someone else_ does.”

Mikkel blinked in surprise. “By ‘someone else’, do you mean...”

Onni nodded and left the bunk-room.

“Well, then,” Mikkel said thoughtfully, “it seems I have some explaining of my own to do...”


	14. Judges

The weird green mist swirled in an oddly viscous manner around the two boys as they walked through the forest of mushrooms towering over them. Though far from familiar to the boys, this was yet not the Spirit World. Above them, they could just make out the vast bulk of their home-world looming in the sky overhead, even through the convolutions of green around and above.

“Why on Earth did you bring that thing?” The voice sounded strange, both linguistically and phonetically. It was still Lalli, but speaking at least an octave higher than usual, and in a weird, sing-song language filled with liquid v’s and w’s and l’s and r’s, utterly unlike the Svensk tongue or that of the Finn’s-Land.

“Sigrun said we needed a mascot; you’re just lucky this gal was strutting around the Temple like she owned the place, or I’d have had to go back and get Kitty.” Emil stopped short at the similarly altered sound of his own voice, almost dropping the hen he cradled in his arms. “I understood you,” he breathed in shock. Then, he added, “What language are we speaking?”

Seeing that his friend was about to freak out, Lalli walked over to the Svensk Fire-Bender, put a hand on his shoulder, and shook. “No time to panic. Only got two hours. Need to find the people here.”

Emil shook himself. “Right.” Then he grinned. “But you have to admit it’ll be pretty weird for us to have a real conversation.”

Lalli essayed his familiar half-smile. “Yup.”

They hadn’t gone much farther when the two boys almost fell over two small people crumpled into little balls of misery in a small clearing. To be fair, these others were dressed in exotic robes that yet blended into the surrounding ‘vegetation’--it was all fungi, hence the quote marks--almost perfectly.

The natives had big bald heads and big liquid-brown eyes that almost made them look like oversized infants. However, they expressed themselves in a fairly adult manner, extending a courteous welcome to the two strangers to their home and explaining why, though Emil and Lalli would be given a warm welcome in the nearby village, the two natives could not accompany them: they had been Exiled.

“I can take you where you need to go.” The voice was calm and self-assured. The speaker was, in a word, regal. Despite having the same semi-infantile features as his fellows, this was one man no one would mistake for anything other than what he was: a king.

The other natives froze for a moment in astonishment before abasing themselves at the king’s feet. “Great Ta! Mighty Ta!”

A kind smile played around Ta’s lips as he looked at his former subjects. “Rise, my friends.” They did, and Ta continued, “How are you?”

One (was his name Oru?) answered, “As well as can be expected, Mighty Ta; but we still have not found another place where the Life-Plants grow.”

Ta sighed. “I did not expect you would, though not by any fault on your part.” He turned to the visitors. “I greet you, pilgrims from the Great Protector. You have been expected, though some had begun to doubt your advent.”

It transpired that there was (or had been? Emil wasn’t sure) another human among them who had occasional Vision and had foretold their arrival. This was a good thing, because there had just been an ecological catastrophe: the Sun had destroyed the entire harvest of the one crop the natives absolutely needed in order to survive, which only grew in one small place.

The king took the two visitors to this place, the Place of Hidden Waters, and the boys looked around, though they were hampered by a strong, sickening, and somehow _familiar_ smell, though neither boy could identify it then. After a few basic deductions which, though useless, greatly impressed Ta with their clarity, the boys retreated to a place with better air.

They had less than an hour left of their original two, and neither wanted to find out what would happen if they weren’t on time in returning.

Emil put his head in his hands. “Why did Sigrun send _me_ here? I’m _useless_ for this kind of thing, but it’s right up Reynir’s alley.”

Lalli punched Emil in the shoulder. “Reynir’s not here; we are, so we’ll succeed. We have to.”

Emil closed his eyes and gathered his composure. “OK. Since you’re a Water-Bender, can you feel just what those springs are bringing up into the plants?”

“Yep, but we already know the plants just take the one thing they need and make it something these guys can process.” Emil’s face fell. Lalli continued, “Good idea though. If any of the plants were still alive, I could feel what they were taking and what they were making.”

A series of squawking sounds pulled their attention to the hen, which was doing what came naturally: laying an egg. Once she was finished, Lalli deftly grabbed it while Emil pacified the hen.

“Why did you do that? And what is that strange stone?” Ta asked.

“It’s an egg, Your Majesty,” Emil explained. “It’s how their kind breed. Were it fertilized, it would eventually hatch--the chick inside would peck its way out. We grabbed it because it isn’t fertilized, and we didn’t want it to go rotten.” He froze in sudden realization of what he’d just said. “Lalli!” he cried so sharply that the other boy almost dropped the egg he was holding. “That’s _it!_ That’s the smell--rotten eggs!”

It took most of the rest of their time, but they found that a truly minute bit of scrambled egg was all that was needed to restore a native to health, so the one egg the hen would lay daily would suffice for the whole village. Ta expressed the natives’ gratitude and confirmed that the two Exiles would be brought back to the village.

Ta spoke again. “And now, we must go to the Hall of the Ancient Ones, where you are expected...”


	15. The Second Book of Chronicles

Emil and Lalli almost hadn’t made it back, because carrying a loaded stretcher cross-country is even more difficult than it sounds. Of course, they’d had almost a dozen helpers from the village, so that sped things up; nevertheless, they almost hadn’t made it back. Just as they had emerged from the Portal with their cumbersome treasure, the Portal made at such cost had flickered and died.

Ta had led the two boys to the Hall of the Ancient Ones, a cavern carved into the rock of a local mountain which served as a massive cenotaph where jewels glinted from the walls and ceiling; the stretcher and its bearers awaited them in one of its passages, and they had set off for the Portal immediately. Once the group had reached the Portal, however, the bearers had handed over their burden to the boys and presumably headed home.

Emil looked over to where Sigrun reclined; the youth was more than half afraid that the Earth-Bender (severely drained already from creating the Portal using the knowledge she’d gained from the Elder Sigrun’s necklace) had followed her mentor into the next world, since the Portal’s death and Trond’s expiration--just after explaining what the necklace was and how Sigrun must use it--were so horribly similar. She cracked one eye open and grinned weakly at him. “Be fine. Y’should see t’other guy.”

Reynir babbled something in his weird language, bringing Emil’s attention to the fact that all the others were in the Portal Room now. When Lalli spat something at Tuuri, Emil frowned in disappointment. He’d enjoyed actually conversing with his friend, and there was _so_ much he’d wanted to discuss with him now that the urgency of their mission had passed. _They had been in the sky itself!_ It was nearly beyond any of Emil’s wildest flights of fancy.

Eventually, Tuuri got to translating what Reynir had said initially: “Don’t worry, Emil. Sigrun just needs rest, but she’ll be fine.”

Onni barked out something, glaring at Mikkel. Tuuri translated again: “We’ve heard that there are no Benders of any sort in the Mark of Denn, but that really isn’t the case. Is it, Mikkel?”

Mikkel cleared his throat a few times before a sharp look from Onni had him finally admitting, “Actually, I am a Bender, but instead of one of the Elements, or Life, or Spirit, I Bend Senses.” He spoke first in the language of the Island of Life-Benders, then repeated himself in his native tongue.

“By which you mean Minds,” Onni corrected, Tuuri translating near-simultaneously.

“By which I mean Sight, Scent, Touch, or Hearing, or combinations thereof,” Mikkel riposted. “I believe those are more commonly referred to as ‘Senses’, are they not? I cannot interfere with the processes of reason in another’s mind except via Bending their Senses, so ‘Mind-Bender’ seems a decided misnomer.”

“Yes, I’m sure none of your Bending victims _ever_ lost their reason due to you,” Onni snapped back sarcastically enough that even those who didn’t speak the language he was using felt its bite.

“Not intentionally,” Mikkel said. Then he turned to the others and said, “This was, of course, the reason for my Exile: I used my Bending to pull pranks, and one went awry enough that I had to pay the price for it.”

“But that is only part of your reason for seeking Exile, Mikkel.”

Mikkel turned and stared in astonishment at the shrouded form lying on the stretcher Emil and Lalli had brought back from their travels, which sat up, still encased in wrappings very much like the mummies of the ancient times. It spoke again.

“You are wondering why you are here and who I am. Almost a century ago, the Balance of Bending tilted too far, and my predecessor, the Avatar Nguyen, was hurled into the Spirit Realm and beyond; it has taken a very long time for the Avatar Spirit to return so that it could be reborn in me. Now, with the emergence of the other Bending Wheels, all is in place for the Balance to be Restored, and I have emerged to resume my place as Avatar. You have each been Called here, four representing the Old Wheel of Bending and three representing the New Wheels, that you might be my tutors--and friends. One of you has already known me well, but to the others, I say this: I am Michael Madsen, Mikkel’s twin brother, and I am the Avatar.”


	16. Proverbs

Lalli didn’t like the Fox Spirits nosing around the Air Temple, but Emil seemed to be the only one who noticed the effect those Spirits had on his friend.

Sigrun was either recuperating in deep slumber or setting her recovery back by making more and ever more memory stones like those in the Elder Sigrun’s necklace; her stated goal was to make a set for all seven Tutors to the Avatar, though Emil disliked how she was putting her eventual recovery at risk in order to do so. Either way, she was too caught up in other matters to notice Lalli’s uneasiness whenever a Fox Spirit slinked by.

Tuuri and Onni were going back and forth to the Spirit Realm like two yo-yos; sometimes the Fox Spirits accompanied them, but just as often they didn’t. Emil was starting to feel rather annoyed on his friend’s behalf that they ignored him so, but Lalli himself seemed quite used to this treatment.

Mikkel and his brother had a rather thorny relationship, when it wasn’t outright contentious. Mikkel claimed not to believe Michael’s claim of being the Avatar, though sometimes even Reynir could tell Mikkel was lying about it.

Reynir. The youth from the Island of Life-Benders was another complication in the net around Lalli: alike but opposites, in a way that reminded Emil far too closely of his own relations with Lalli; the only reassurance there was how Lalli barely tolerated Reynir. To be sure, Lalli respected Reynir’s abilities, but just couldn’t _stand_ his foolishness otherwise.

All of this was exacerbated by the fact that they were stuck on the Air Temple as the Air-Benders that inhabited its hallowed halls took it to what they called “the Lake of Awakening” (which also confused Emil, as Michael seemed perfectly awake already to him). They _had_ been decent enough to bring the vehicle that had sheltered their six visitors along, but said visitors had almost nothing to _do_ , and were beginning to get a bit stir-crazy.

The Fox Spirits had begun nosing around the Air Temple a day or so after their journey began. Emil wasn’t sure where they came from, but the others seemed unsurprised by their advent, and, with the noticeable exception of Lalli, unperturbed.

One of the so-close-to-identical-as-made-no-difference Air-Benders entered the space the visitors had been allotted and said portentously, “We have arrived.”

*

They had disembarked at the entrance to a gargantuan Temple to the Avatar, and Michael had said, “It is here that I must assume the Mantle of the Avatar by entering the Avatar State; for this, I shall need your aid.”

There were people in the Temple; they were actually more of the folk Emil and Lalli had met in that other place. Michael said something-or-other about what they actually were, but it went right over Emil’s head; or at least it did then.

There were certain portions of the Temple where only the Avatar and the Templars were permitted, and the severity of the tones in which this was said convinced Emil that it was Important.

“Hey! If you come with me, we can heal Sigrun up right now!”

Emil looked up from his doodlings to see a Fox Spirit standing at the door leading from the sleeping area to the rest of the vehicle, its body tensed in readiness to be off. Something about it was utterly convincing, so Emil put his materials aside and followed after it.

They went into the Temple, and through a byzantine labyrinth until they debouched into a wide and ornately bedecked corridor. The Fox Spirit kept sprinting ahead and slinking back, urging Emil ever onwards.

Emil stopped as he realized where the corridor led. “I’m... not supposed to be here,” he whispered, but the thought of Sigrun well again meant he could not make himself turn back; nor would he go forward, as to do so would betray his hosts. He struggled within himself over what to do for a long moment, the Fox Spirit ahead of him egging him onwards, but eventually, he shut his eyes and turned around, though his heart screamed in anguish within him.

Ahead of him was a dark figure. How he knew the androgynous form was that of a woman, Emil didn’t know, but he knew it all the same. His footsteps slowed as he approached her; she was standing before one of the innumerable side-passages off the corridor, utterly motionless. She was waiting for him.

“She will die.” The words carried both a cold certainty and a horrible glee.

Emil’s stomach turned; he was certain who the dark figure meant, but asked anyway, “Who will?”

“The red-haired Earth-Bender,” was the measured reply. “The Gnorr Earth-Bender who dared to thwart me. She will die, and never will she be gathered back to the bosom of her people, and I will hold her soul in torments indescribable.”

“No,” Emil whispered. Then, louder, he said, “No!”

“And you will aid me in this, Fire-Bender,” the dark figure continued as though Emil hadn’t spoken. “You killed my Sonew; now you shall take his place, or you shall die. But the red-head shall die regardless.”

“NO!” Emil shouted, trying to summon the fire within him as he leapt at the dark form. But his hands met nothingness, no matter how he flailed in his rage; and a horrible, deathly chill fell over him, smothering his fires.

Emil was not aware of breaking away from the Dark Spirit, or of running pell-mell down the corridor; black despair had engulfed him in a sea of hopelessness, and when Lalli found him, the Svensk was curled up into a sobbing ball of misery near their base camp...


	17. The First Book of Kings

Emil could understand Lalli again, and this _terrified_ him until he found out that all of them could understand any of the others. Still, Emil was haunted by the words of the Dark Spirit: “You shall take my Sonew’s place, or you shall die.”

Emil didn’t want to die, but it was preferable to betraying his friends. Or was he already betraying them unknowingly, or had the betrayal already happened?

Fortunately, Lalli managed to wrestle some sense into Emil before the Svensk Fire-Bender could do anything spectacularly stupid. Sigrun would have done it as well, but she _still_ wasn’t up to it, and really annoyed by her infirmity.

Mikkel was pensive. “Emil, could you find the place where the Dark Spirit was standing again?”

Of all the things Emil had expected to hear after his confession to his fellows, that question had never even remotely entered his mind. “Uh... Maybe?” Then he couldn’t help asking, “But _why?_ ”

Michael answered for his twin. “Because in where she chose to manifest, she may have unintentionally hinted at her deepest-held secrets, giving us the key to defeating her.”

*

She had been a human once, and she’d hated every second of it; so it was that she still hated everything human. Now, she had ascended to a purer form, all the muddled wants and needs of the flesh stripped away or crystallized into her one overriding desire: _power_.

She deserved the power she sought: she’d earned it through her obvious intrinsic merits, by her many and varied sacrifices, and because none other had ever arisen fit to take the power from her. The only one who’d come close was the Avatar Spirit in its many and varied manifestations, and that not from a will to power, but a desire for _balance_ , of all things!

Soon enough, even the Avatar Spirit would trouble her no more.

*

“You know, of course, that this is totally a trap,” Sigrun remarked to Michael as she put the finishing touches on the fifth necklace.

Michael looked at his twin. Both men grinned that very Trond-like grin as Mikkel answered, “Of course; but the trap must be baited, and therein lies our hope.”

“Besides,” Michael said, “this will be the fight where all seven of you will come into the full flower of your abilities; without it, the necklaces you have forged will remain incomplete.”

“But will this temper us, or will we shatter?” Sigrun asked with unwonted seriousness.

“It remains to be seen,” Mikkel said.

Michael was more positive in his assessment. “For this were the seven of you Called; in this, you shall not fail, however ‘close’ a thing it may appear to you.” He made mocking air-quotes when he said “close”.

*

They had gone down the corridor some distance already, but Emil had not found the doorway they sought as yet. His increasing nervousness manifested itself in a flurry of ignitions; Lalli still had no trouble dousing them all before any damage resulted.

They were almost to the Forbidden Heart of the Temple when Emil looked back at one inconspicuous and seemingly insignificant opening, and the hairs on his neck rose as he brought the group to a halt.

“This is it,” Emil stammered. “The Spirit was right there.” He pointed to a spot just outside the branching corridor.

“So,” Onni mused, “should we go down the corridor, then, or is that where the trap lies?”

Mikkel frowned. “Why would she be _outside_ the entryway if she meant to block it?” He turned to Michael. “What do you know of this Temple?”

“It was made by a mystic from the Island of Life-Benders just after the Outbreak,” Michael replied. “I do not know what his birth name was, but he assumed the cognomen ‘Myketes the Great’ among his followers.”

Reynir looked at the Templars in sudden realization. “He--he _created_ you, didn’t he?”

They nodded calmly. “And he sent some of us to populate a tiny sphere circling this world. You saved their descendants,” one told Emil and Lalli.

Onni smiled at Reynir. “So, you’ve worked out what the other two parts of the Wheel of Life-Bending must be, then?”

Reynir nodded. “The Wheel is made up of Plant-Benders, Flesh-Benders, Fungi-Benders--and Germ-Benders, and _that_ is how the Reaving came to be.”

An almost imperceptible rumbling began, coming from the side corridor; but the little group paid it no heed for the moment.

“Most Fungi have their source in the soil beneath our feet,” Mikkel observed. “Sigrun, what can you feel beneath the spot where our adversary showed herself?”

Sigrun frowned as she reached out to feel the Earth around her, her fingers slipping through the floor as though through ordinary soil.

The rumbling increased, bit by bit, until the Temple trembled with it...


	18. The Second Book of Kings

The horde of Horrors in all shapes and sizes spilled out of the corridor in full fury, swarming over the little group in a vast and seemingly unending flood and rushing on down the main corridor.

The group should have been dead, but they weren’t; at least, the Avatar and his Tutors weren’t. The Reaving-Bent Horrors in their multitudes were only illusions, the results of a Mind-Bender striving to kill the group through the illusion of their own death, while an allied Spirit-Bender Bent their Fear to the utmost.

Mikkel and Tuuri were ready for the fight, however, and while they could not entirely negate the enemies’ Bending, they could expose it as the fraud it was. This was enough that the group could grit their teeth and _endure_ , aside from the Templars among them, who stood like statues, the assault killing them instantly.

Again and again the attacks came as Sigrun doggedly Bent the Earth at her feet, until finally, a casket was exposed. In an instant, Onni had whipped up a funnel of Air to raise the casket into their circle, but even as he did, counter-winds buffeted the capsule, and spikes of rock lashed out to try to block its path. Fires tried to spark on the casket, while long icicles formed on its bottom, trying to drag it down.

The Dark Spirit’s forces had arrived; the Battle of the Benders had begun.

Acting on instinct, Lalli dashed away the flames, while Emil burned off the icicles, Sigrun pushed the spikes aside and Onni reined in the winds. They did this over and over again while Tuuri and Mikkel held off their own counterparts; but as the Battle dragged on and on, their exertions slowly started sapping their very Life, so at last Reynir tried to shore it up as best he could once more.

After the opening salvos, the major part of the attacks centered on Michael, but most of the rest focused on Sigrun; Emil nearly killed himself beating back the ones he could, his memory replaying that cold “She will die” all the while.

As each of the seven strained to Bend against the oncoming foes, they each felt something ancient and powerful rise within them, as each had felt before in a time of great need. Their eyes closed, and when they opened again, they were glowing blue.

Energy flowed from the seven into Michael, and with it came searing pain that brought him to his knees with eyes squeezed shut as his chi rerouted itself. Then the pain was gone, leaving only power in its wake. Avatar Michael stood and his eyes opened, glowing bright blue, for he had finally entered the Avatar State for the first time.

The fight did not last long after that. The Dark Spirit had made deals with a whole host of Benders of various sorts, but even massed as they were, they were no match for the Avatar, and particularly not when he was backed by his seven Tutors. Both individually and in groups, they fell to the Avatar Spirit, and were stripped of their Bending, until none remained to oppose the Avatar.

Spent, the seven Tutors dropped to their knees, fighting to stay conscious. Sigrun looked down at the casket she held. “So... what’s... in... this... thing?” she slowly asked, fighting to get each word out.

A Templar, called forth from the Forbidden Heart of the Temple through the Golden Portal by the entrance of Michael into the Avatar State, gently lifted the casket from her rapidly slackening grasp and said, “Within this is the Shield and the Cure for the Reaving; with this, no more shall fall to it, though the Reaving-Bent are still beyond its aid.”

As he spoke, three other Templars joined him. “And now that Avatar Michael has entered the Avatar State at last, it is time for him to be seated in the place we have long prepared for him; this will send the Dark Spirit to her doom.”

Beginning their long-practiced chant, the four Templars took their processional positions around the Avatar, and the five of them went down the corridor, the heavy, dark shape of their spirit foe dogging their steps all the way. Other Templars bore their fallen kin away for what rites Templars performed to honor their dead.

Finally, the Avatar and his Templar escort passed through the Golden Portal, ascending the Dais to where the Throne of Balance awaited the Avatar. In the instant when the Avatar sat, a long, wailing cry of failure and despair echoed down the corridor until it, and the Dark Spirit from which it issued, faded away forever.

Two Templars emerged from the Golden Portal, gesturing for the seven to approach. “And now,” one said when they reached the threshold, “you must go in and take you places on the Lower Dais, for Change has come, and the Balance is nigh to return.”

Mikkel, Tuuri, Reynir, Onni, Lalli, Emil and Sigrun looked at each other for a moment before stepping through the Golden Portal...


End file.
